Her Soldier (That Girl #3) (5 page)

“Everything is in the wash. Sorry, undies will have to do for now.”

Undies for now? The statement makes me uncomfortable. I’m not sure I can just waltz around his living room in underwear while making small talk and eating breakfast. But then I’m reminded of showering naked with him minutes ago.

“Your pizza pocket is ready to go.”

Well, here goes nothing, in undies and all. Five steps into the living room I realize I’m not even wearing a fucking bra under this tank. The thought of it instantly causes my nipples to pebble up. I cross my arms to try to hide the obvious obtrusions poking through my top.

“Bad case of the headlights, huh?” Beau leans on the table as he sets down my food.

“What?”

“Headlights.” He gestures toward my folded arms.

What the fuck is he talking about? Headlights. So clueless, I even turn and look behind me, searching for a truck or car. Beau’s loud laughter jolts me and I turn back to him.

“You’re nipping out. Headlights, you know?” Beau places both his pointer fingers on his nipples and wiggles them.

At the realization of his joke, I slap at his imposter nipples and he laughs even harder. I finally catch one of his fingers due to him laughing so damn hard, and I use it to my advantage and pull him down to my level. I promptly kiss his lips and whisper thank you. Knowing he saved me and the scars on the back of his leg, I just feel the urge to love him. Pour all of me into him. At this point, I don’t care if it’s an unhealthy addiction. I need every single ounce of Beau surrounding me.

His lips press back onto mine, kissing me hard and with more passion than ever. My hands are dainty compared to his chest when I place them there and push him back down into the other chair. I climb into his lap and cover his mouth again. I bite down on his bottom lip, asking him gently but firmly to open up to me.

Beau pulls back, breaking our seal. “This is so wrong.”

“I don’t care, Beau. I want you. I need you.” My lips go straight back to his, warming him up to the idea and kissing him with ease while running my tongue along the seam of his lips. “Let me in.”

My teeth again bite his lower lip, wanting him to open up to me. This time his bottom jaw drops open and I don’t waste a moment. I enter, exploring his sweet, warm mouth. His scent hits me hard and leaves me wanting more. I push down hard on him, asking for more, needing more from him.

“I can’t do this, Jenni. It’s wrong.

“Then let me. I need you now. I need to feel something good again, to know everything will be all right.”

I reach down and undo his button and then his zipper. The length of him is very obvious through the thin material of his boxers. I slip my hand in and lose my breath when I grab him. It’s not that he’s unusually huge, but it’s the touch and sensation of holding him. His eyes fill with pleasure as I begin stroking him. A cautious expression still flashes between his looks of pleasure. His large hand takes my face gently with another warning glance, and I ignore all of it.

“I’m not stopping, Beau.” I slide off of his lap then immediately slip down my panties. “I need to feel again. I’m tired of reliving that night and feeling like shit every second of the day. I can’t stand my own skin right now, and just want to feel good again.”

Settling into Beau’s lap, I arch my back slightly, getting ready to adjust myself onto him. At the first touch of our flesh, a sense of urgency fills the room. His eyes rake boldly over my body as I fully settle down onto him. Before I know it, Beau has me gathered in his arms and begins to move me up and down. I melt into him, following his rhythm easily and trying not to cry out in pleasure.

It’s working; with each thrust I feel pleasure again. Not just any pleasure, but blissful contentment I haven’t experienced in a long time. Beau’s fingers on my flesh remind me of the man giving this to me. When I see the gratification covering his face, I increase the speed and meet his driving hips. We find each other at a punishing pace. I hear his groan and realize what’s happening. When his fingers dig in and he groans louder, I spiral out of control, screaming with my release.

My movement doesn’t stop once the final wave of my orgasm washes over. I rock back and forth on him, relishing the luscious sensation it sends through me.

“Thank you.” I finally collapse onto his shoulder.

His hand wipes my hair from the side of my face while he places a kiss to my forehead. His eyes are pained.

“I’m sorry for pushing you, but I needed you.”

“Don’t be sorry, Jenni.” His lips again brush my forehead. “I’ve never felt the way I just did.”

“Then why do you look so sad?”

“I’m not your forever type guy.”

My phone rings off in the distance; I recognize the ring tone right away. Before peeling away from Beau’s lap, I kiss his lips. “I’m not your forever type girl.”

When I reach my phone, I see it’s Lynlee and decide not to answer. It’s the first she’s tried reaching out since the reception. I practically went missing into the dark and haven’t heard from her or Jazzy. It’s understandable not to hear from Jazzy, considering she’s probably still swept away somewhere on her honeymoon with Levi, but Lynlee, in my book, has no excuse. I’ve texted my aunt different bullshit every day concerning my whereabouts. After I hit the decline button, my phone begins to ring again with Lynlee’s name lighting up the display. Again I hit decline and I don’t feel an ounce of regret when doing it. Next a text comes across the screen.

Lynlee: I’m sorry I haven’t called, but been soo sooo soooo busy with the new job and all
.

In true Lynlee fashion her text is a mile long. Her words don’t convince me to call or even text her back. I feel Beau walk up behind me and press his bare chest into my exposed skin. And the connection feels perfect. He nuzzles his face down into my neck, kissing and murmuring.

“Who is it?”

“Just a friend.”

“You should really text her back.”

“No, I refuse to. Plus, I’ve already texted my aunt, the only person who deserves to know I’m alive.”

“Jenni, she’s probably really worried about you.”

“How do you know it’s a she?” I feel the muscles in his neck tense up. “I’m kidding, Beau. It’s one of my good friends, Lynlee.”

“Let her know you’re okay.”

“She was at the wedding that night, Beau, and this is the first time she’s contacted me.”

“It might be good for you.”

Tossing my phone back on the crate near the window, I turn to Beau and place my hands on his cheeks.

“Don’t ruin this moment, please.”

“Fine.” Beau takes my hand and leads me over to the table. “Now eat.”

In times like this, Beau is not a person to fuck around with. His voice is stern and mannerisms are stone cold. I don’t fear him, but I sure as hell wouldn’t start an argument with him either.

He silently returns to the table with a glass of ice water, a bottle of pills, and his breakfast. His plate makes me squirm in my chair. I’ve noticed he always eats cottage cheese, over easy eggs, and fruit. I’m not a big breakfast person unless it involves a Starbucks peppermint white mocha with a birthday cake pop, and then every time I do go to Starbucks it makes me feel guilty since my Aunt Danielle runs a bakery and coffee shop. So I generally settle for a bottle of water and some type of energy pill.

“Not hungry? You should’ve worked up an appetite.”

I don’t miss the sly grin Beau shoots me before I pick up my food. I’ve become slightly addicted to pizza pockets. I’ve never bought the damn things but am now completely in love with them. Beau normally chows them down as a midday snack. It’s the only thing I’ll eat, and he always prepares one for me when it’s pill time.

“I want to try not taking a painkiller this morning and see how I feel closer to noontime.”

“Okay, but you have to take your antibiotic, so chow down.”

I’m shocked he didn’t fight me on this. I’ve been in such a drugged state that I just want to see how I feel without any painkillers, and after this morning’s events I’ll definitely be on a natural high for a while.

Chapter 4

“Want to watch some TV, or do you need to run errands for your personal life?”

Beau’s cleaned up the kitchen, done a couple loads of laundry, and is now stewing around the couch. It’s clear the man doesn’t know how to sit still, and I’ve noticed how extremely orderly he is. His boots are always lined up perfectly.

“Just checking my email. Have a seat.” I throw the blue fleece blanket off the couch to make room for him. Beau settles in next to me, but I can tell he feels uncomfortable and almost agitated. I place my hand on his knee and realize he is extremely pissed off and goes rigid under my touch.

“Did I do something wrong, Beau?”

“No.” His voice is cold and damn near unrecognizable. “Do you really think you should be checking your email in public like this? I could get so many details from your personal life. Enough to kill you.”

The last two words he speaks are bone chilling, and for the first time I fear him. His words weren’t meaningless; he used them like he’s killed before. Before I have a chance to reply, Beau springs from couch and begins pacing the living room. His level of agitation has grown to an all-time high and his face is bright red.

“I’ve got to go.”

He opens the door and shuts it right behind him. I’m left staring down at my cellphone wondering what in the hell just went down. He was clearly pissed about me being on my phone…or was he pissed I was checking my email? Personal information, public, kill. Rehearsing the scene in my head, I try to pull those elements to the forefront. I’m sitting on his couch in a private place, checking emails, which mostly consist of junk type shit advertising sales to my favorite shops, and I invited him to sit next to me.

No matter how I play it out, I don’t see the danger or threat he was talking about. The one thing I can’t shake is his immediate behavior. One minute the Beau I know is busying himself with chores, relaxed, and friendly, then straight to a raging beast. He went from mild to wild in a matter of seconds.

My first instinct is to call or text him, but then I realize I know nothing about this man. Absolutely nothing. I don’t even know where the hell I am if I had to call someone to come pick me up. Walking over to the big window, I peer out into the streets. I don’t immediately recognize any of the surroundings, but I know for sure it’s a residential area tucked back behind an industrial part of town. It’s definitely an older neighborhood as I analyze the beautiful brick buildings.

I notice the window is not only a window, but also a door. I try the handle and find it easily opens. The air is cool with a slight chill, but the slightest hint of spring mingles with it. There’s a charming little patio and I step out on to it. It’s decorated with a simple black iron table and chairs. Beau even has a few plants out here. The ledge calls my attention as I walk over to it and place my hands on the slightly crumbling cement pieces. I run my fingers through the cracks, still trying to analyze Beau and taking in the revitalizing air all at once.

Something deep down tells me Beau is not a bad guy, a scarred guy maybe, but not harmful. I’m not one who makes the best choices, but if I’d listen to my gut more I wouldn’t find myself in fucked-up situations. I knew Maxton was wrong. Not only did all my friends warn me, but so did my intuition. But the overwhelming need to fit in and have a man who gushed and swooned over me was more demanding. Looking back, I’m terribly embarrassed by those decisions. Absolutely appalled. But it’s something I’ve done since high school. How do you fit in and get noticed at the same time? Well, you’re loud, glittery, and the best at everything.

It’s all such a vicious cycle. On the outside, I’ve always tried to be the best. The most attractive woman in the room, painted with makeup, killer hair, a spray tan, and the sexiest body—creating the perfect picture on the outside but still feeling hollow on the inside. All the
just ifs
. Just if I keep up on the designer looks. Just if I go to college and get a degree. Just if I go to beauty school. Just if I land a boyfriend, then I’ll finally feel whole.

At times I wonder if I’ll ever know what feeling whole is like. My parents had me medicated at a very young age for ADHD. They couldn’t handle me and were never shy of being verbal about it. My Aunt Danielle was always there for me, and in the background I heard their adult conversation. My father, Danielle’s brother, was always pushing the meds down my throat while Danielle begged him to try to use other methods or at least research them.

In the end, I always took the medicine to appease my dad. It seemed it was the one thing I could do right in his eyes. The day they left me with Danielle, I stopped the medicine cold turkey. I felt life for the first time and it was brilliant. The numb mummy state was gone, and I could finally feel again. At times, I knew my personality came across a little loud and proud, but it only took people around me a little while before they knew the real me.

I’ll never forget when Lynlee finally told me her first impression about me. I do believe she referred to me as a glittery blonde bimbo who was way ditzy. I just chuckled at her words, never revealing some reasons for that. I’ve never associated my will to fit in to ADHD. My bright personality, blonde looks, and glitter also have nothing to do with it. Feeling hollow with my wheels spinning on high speed while the rest of the world flies past me is what I do associate with ADHD. Which always makes wonder if I will ever feel complete and enough for the rest of the world.

Movement down below on the pavement catches my attention and draws me from my vicious thought cycles. It’s Beau. I can barely make him out. He’s changed into black jogging pants and shirt with a beanie on, and he’s running down the street away from the apartment. I want to call his name, but don’t dare. The man is pounding the pavement and moving at a very rapid pace.

I wonder if this is a normal activity for him or if I absolutely set him off. I’m used to setting people off to the point they can’t handle being in the same room with me. I did it to my parents all the time growing up and never truly understood it. I thought I was playing just like the other kids my age, but it was always me causing the scene and pissing people off.

My bladder screams to me in a wave of urgency. I retreat to the living quarters, mentally noting I need to drag my blanket out here and get some rays. The apartment seems much smaller without Beau in it, and it makes me feel like a stranger in someone else’s home. He’s never made me feel that way. In a strange sense, the man has made me feel more welcome here than I’ve ever felt anywhere else in my life.

Walking through his room, my gaze lands on the portrait by his bed. I’m drawn to the sweet baby’s face. Her hot pink dress and chubby little cheeks are too much to resist. I pick up the picture in one hand and the dog tags in the other. I know I’m not supposed to be doing this, but the need to know more about Beau is too overpowering.

I was right; even up close the baby has Beau’s eyes. Turning over the picture in my hand I see writing on the back.

Lucy, 4 Months Old, Love, Gram.

I repeat the words over and over in my mind and the only scenario I can come up with is that his gram sent him this picture of the little girl. And I can only guess why. He has a daughter. The cold metal in my other hand draws my attention to it.

Abbner

Jeremiah, J.

123-45-7825

O Pos

Catholic

The metal grows heavy in my hand as I reread the first name over and over. Trying to fit the first name
Beau
in anywhere just doesn’t work. Maybe it’s not his. Maybe it’s a best friend’s or an older relative. A loud noise from outside the apartment startles me and I drop both items at once. I watch as the picture floats to ground while the dog tags sink into a partially opened drawer on the nightstand. The stomping continues, and the last thing I want to be is busted by a pissed off Beau. Snooping through someone’s personal items has to be the worst thing a person can do.

I try to squeeze my hand into the drawer to snag the necklace, but can’t quite manage to grab it. I don’t want to pull out the drawer, worried Beau may sense something out of place. I’ve noticed he is very meticulous about his belongings. Slowly, I pull the drawer open while voices now join in on the stomping out in the hall. I recognize Beau’s voice and panic. A large, black pistol lays in the open drawer, and it takes me several seconds to gather my composure enough to retrieve the dog tag. With it in my hands, I slide the drawer shut, sick to my stomach at the sight of the weapon. The front door opens and I hear Beau bid farewell to whomever he’d encountered. Carefully, I set the picture back up and arrange his dog tags face down on his nightstand.

Sheer panic sets in and I’m paralyzed with fear. I can hear him breathing heavily just a room away while I’m clearly at his nightstand, frozen. I hear his first tennis shoe drop to the ground, and realize I only have one option—the bathroom. Turning quickly, I dart for the bathroom. My toe slams on something under the bed, creating a loud thud, and an intense pain shoots through my foot. I want to scream.

Somehow my legs manage to get me into the bathroom, and I plop down onto the toilet without thinking. I’m safe.

“Jenni.” Beau’s voice fills the apartment. Just the sound of it causes me to tear up. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s back or from all the stuff I discovered in his room. I know I should answer him, but can’t force a word out of my mouth. I’ve never been good at being fake. When I’m pissed, I’m pissed.

“Jenni.” His voice is more panicked this time. “Where are you?”

Why does he do this to me? This time I do try to call out to him, but in full tears now, I can’t seem to get one word out.

“Jesus Christ, Jenni, you scared the shit out of me.”

Looking up, I see Beau filling the doorframe, out of breath and looking slightly relieved. Embarrassed by my appearance, I cover my face with my hands.

“What’s wrong?” I feel Beau kneel down and both of his hands on my knees.

Nasty, ugly tears come with long bouts of gasping. I will myself to settle down, and after a few moments I find myself able to speak.

“I’m just going pee.”

Of all the words, those four come out. I should’ve been honest with him and admitted I’m scared shitless from the way he was acting.

“Jenni, your undies are still on.”

Peeking through my fingers I realize I’m sitting on the toilet fully clothed on the top and bottom.

“I’m sorry. What did I do to piss you off? I’m so sorry, Beau, especially after all the shit you’ve done for me.”

My hands are pried away, and Beau’s hands are placed on either side of my face.

“It’s not you, Jenni. Do you hear me?”

I nod, not believing a single word.

“You are not listening to me. Jenni, you have to understand I have serious issues.” He lets out a loud sigh. “I have…I have anger issues.”

Those two words hit me hard. Anger issues. He has a motherfucking gun only feet away from us and he is now telling me he has anger issues. I have to leave. I only have one option.

“I’ll never hurt you, Jenni. I know how to control it. When I’m blinded by the anger, I know I have to leave, and run.”

“But what set you off? It was me, uh…” I stand up, removing his touch. “It’s time for me to leave, Beau.”

“Jenni, stop, you’re not leaving now.” Beau steps to the side and lets me walk from the bathroom.

“I angered you and I’m leaving.”

“Will you fucking listen to me?”

His voice is laced with hostility again, and I stop with my back to him. I pray he doesn’t ask why I was sitting on the toilet in my underwear or put together that I was snooping in his personal items.

“Beau, my whole life I’ve angered people into hating and abusing me. I can’t stay here when clearly I just did that to you.”

I begin to walk again, but his voice stops me.

“Jenni. Fucking listen. It was you on your phone checking your email. Do you realize I could get so much info from you doing that? Do you do that in public with strangers around? If the wrong guy sees you, he could have all kinds of access to you.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” I spin around to face him, thoroughly confused.

“I know about bad guys, and it just freaked me out.”

“What do you mean you know about bad guys, Beau?”

“I can’t talk about it.”

“You can’t talk about it or won’t talk about it? Two different things.”

“Jenni, I can’t talk about it. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated, like, you are one of those bad guys? Beau, talk to me. Do you stalk girls? Do you have a gun? What are you? Who are you?”

My questions strike a chord with him, and I watch as he processes all of my words. A new type of pain covers his face, almost making me feel bad for prying.

“Jenni, I can’t talk about this. I can tell you I do have an anger issue, but I promise I’ll never hurt you.”